New Night Vale Resident: Natasha Celestine
by faerimagic
Summary: There is a new resident in Night Vale. Who is she? What does she want? Why is she so annoying? Is this another author-insertion? These questions may or may not be answered in this one-shot fanfiction. Proceed at your own risk. Disclaimer: Cecil's relationship with Carlos is not interfered, I promise you. Copyrights are noted at the bottom of the fanfiction.


Fear of the Xenophobic?

Xenophobic of the Fear?

Welcome to Night Vale.

There is a new Night Vale resident in town, listeners! How exciting! She (and I'm only assuming that she's a she, she could be male, or even a bisexual octoredon for all I know) has currently moved in on a small plot of land that was previously occupied by the local giant snail. May his shell rest in peace.

Her name is Natasha Celestine. An odd name, since there is nothing celestial or awe-inspiring about her. Local gossipers have described her as pale and short, with a tendency to lean forward while walking and having an overall lack of style. She has a black bob, but it seems like she has a fondness to clip her hair up despite the length. Of course, her hair, listeners, is not as perfect as Carlos's hair. Even if her hair inexplicably catches snowflakes when there hasn't been an actual snowfall in Night Vale for many many years.

It's a bit unfortunate, though, because she has features that strongly suggest of Asian origins. I fear that she will be forcefully initiated into that small cult group who worships the strange goddess named Annie May (which, by the way, listeners, is illegal. If you know anyone who is part of this small cult group who worships the strange goddess named Annie May, contact the local authorities. Extreme measures will be taken and you will forget this trivial piece of information.)

Our local Target superstore has announced that they are now stocking up on arrows as well as other archery equipments and machine guns. This is due to the fact that they realized that the name, well, might have been misleading. Target employees will now start to wear a costume based on the Target logo in order to promote the brand. Critics have pointed out that the new uniform is ghastly. I say, if a costume of a circular target sign is required to enter into our subconscious mind in order to convince us to buy more, expect more, and pay less, then I say such an oddity should be encouraged. Besides, employees have cheerfully noted that the costume is light and thin, so it should be a cinch for them to operate in the costume while serving on the public's every hand and foot.

Oh? This just in. The angels, according to Old Woman Josie, have investigated our new Night Vale resident. They say that she is a pathetic, idiotic crybaby who should not be taken lightly, and because of her mediocre drawing skills, she has already been, oh dear, initiated into that small cult group that worships the strange goddess named Annie May.

Well, anyways, that's what they say. And may I remind you, dear listeners, that the City Council has repeatedly said that angels do not exist. I repeat, angels do not exist. Also, they are extremely prone to lying, so who knows what the actual truth is? Actually, I don't think Natasha is half bad. At the very least, she knows how to quietly chant in her exotic language, which is something I cannot say for some of us.

And now, traffic. Pedestrians have been spotted running through the streets all while pointing at the moon screaming "It's following me! It keeps following me, exclamation point!" Citizens are advised not to interact with these strayed individuals. Please, do not fear. Our wonderful hooded figures are doing a fine job of removing this inconvenience. You will cease to remember that such an incident has ever happened.

A boy with white hair has been spotted walking on the beach, and this is significant as the beach has been closed indefinitely for renovations. Authorities have tried to arrest the boy but was unable to due to the fact that the boy had already entered the toxic blue waters that sometimes change colors depending on the sky. The boy seems to be unharmed by the corrosive liquid, and one wonders if he, if he is a he, is actually human at all.

After shouting at the fully-clothed boy to no avail for three hours straight, the local Night Vale Police department reported that the boy sang a beautiful song that contained no words, showed his teeth, dived into the water and swam. Does this kid have a death wish or something? Seriously. I once knew a woman named Eri, you know, the female who had a habit of wearing cloth triangles on her head? Eri, the poor girl, had an unfortunate lack of common sense and dipped her toes in the prohibited waters one Wednesday evening. Needless to say, she was spotted and immediately taken away to the Abandoned Mine Shaft for "cleansing". I never saw her again.

The Night Vale Public Library is issuing library cards for the first time in Night Vale history. Having these cards will allow citizens to borrow books at a much more efficient rate than the previous system of an eye-for-an-eye, a-lock-of-hair-for-a-book. An additional benefit is that the Reading Room will be in a much more hygienic state. You can practically hear all the bald college students whispering in exhilaration. Also, the cards will also give users priority access to the obsolete Windows 53 desktops, as well as a free stool sample from Home Depot. Be warned. Losing your cards will have drastic surgical consequences.

Update on our new Night Vale resident. It seems as if Ms. Celestine has been caught writing in a GreenEarth notebook, which is a major offense not only because writing utensils are prohibited, but also because that particular brand has been banned by the City Council for reasons unknown. After realizing the severity of her infraction, she was last seen sobbing disastrously in distress while running towards a nonexistent Dog Park. I say it is nonexistent, listeners, because everyone knows that Dog Parks do not exist.

Interestingly enough, in order to educate the citizens of Night Vale on the dangers of physical writing, authorities have sent me a typed copy of a message from the GreenEarth notebook. How very nice of them!

Let's see here.

"I'm scared. I am scared of him. Why did he offer me a hug? What does he want from me? I didn't even know his name until someone else mentioned him. He wants something from me. I know it. But what? I have nothing to give. Why can't he leave me alone? I just want to be alone. Away. Away from him. He makes me uncomfortable and he creeps me out. I don't like him. I don't like Carlos at-"

Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Carlos, that Carlos? MY Carlos? MY perfectly handsome Carlos? He would never do that. He would NEVER offer to hug a paranoid selfish crybaby! Ugh, this just makes me angry!

THAT is why, listeners, you should ALWAYS refrain from using writing utensils! The City Council, you know, knows what is best, and you should always heed their advice. And to think I actually said that Natasha Celestine wasn't half bad. Unbelievable!

Authorities are currently split up between demolishing her newly constructed home (good riddance) while also on the lookout for the white-haired boy who took an illegal dip into our dangerous waters. Citizens have reported hearing an audible chuckle, other citizens have reported that they heard opera singing, specifically, the Ave Maria. Huh. This crazy, demented, lunatic actually has some good musical taste. Imagine that!

The Night Vale Post Office has announced they will no longer accept anymore mail. However, they say that packages are still allowed to be sent, provided that addresses are typed, not written, weigh no less than 20 pounds, and are easily openable. Bringing a fresh BLT with you when you arrive to send the package is also highly recommended. The Post Office disclaims that they are not responsible for any lost packages, opened packages, rotten packages, arrest, dismemberment, injuries, or death that occur from sending packages through the Night Vale Post Office. These new rules are effective immediately, and the Night Vale Post Office looks forward to your obligatory business with them.

There is currently some alarm in the community, as someone has exited from the Dog Park. I mean, the nonexistent Dog Park. The Dog Park that definitely, truly, does not exist.

It is a woman with light blue hair. Her blue hair is tied in a long braid that is inexplicably only on the one side of her head, therefore rendering the symmetry of her hairstyle uneven. She is reported to having three rectangular white clips clipped to her bangs, the significance of this detail is known to no one. She is also wearing, I can't believe this, a garb that can only be described as "Futuristic Eastern". Can you believe this? What has that dreadful Natasha Celestine gotten herself into this time? Everybody knows that the East has already attained the Future. There is nothing Futuristic about the Future's future.

Let us take a break from this aggravation and have a word from our sponsors.

Breathe in. Breathe out. You are not angry. You are calm. Feel the wind. Feel the rain. Feel the pain. They exist and yet, do not. Give them power, and then take it away. Breathe out. Breathe in. You are not angry. You are calm. You are. You are. You are.

This has been a message from Tinker Fans, Blowing You Away.

Citizens with SONY cameras are currently recording the uninteresting phenomena happening outside of the unknowable Dog Park and they are now Livestreaming the event to the Station's computer, and since you listeners cannot see this Livestream unless you were gifted with the third eye, nor is secondary streaming allowed, I shall have to describe to you this utter barbarity.

Look, there she is now, acting clichedly mysterious with all the townspeople watching. She is saying "I am not Natasha Celestine, yet I am." She says in a stupidly cryptic manner. Yeah, right. You were totally not that girl who just went in the nonexistent Dog Park fifteen minutes ago.

"My name," she says "is Orca." She blinks. Then she grins. "That's Orca in all caps. ORCA." WELL EXCUSE ME, MISSY.

She giggles in an annoying way and then looks at the camera. She waves and says "HI, CECIL!" Well. Isn't. That. Nice. It seems she's gifted with a third ear.

"Carlos!" She shouts. Wait, what? She is shouting "Carlos" repeatedly. What is she doing? Can it be that she is summoning my Carlos? This cannot be! No! There is Carlos majestically and serenely walking up to her with an adorable confused look on his face!

"What is it?" he says. No! Don't speak to her! Don't engage with that vile, horrible, monstrous being! Ohh, if I could just run towards him and pull him away from this danger..! But I can't! Station Management is listening. I know, because they have slid a paper under the door. If I neglect in my broadcasting duties, who knows what horrors Station Management will unleash? That, and I am a coward, listeners. An ugly, shameful coward. I only hope that Carlos will be able to see the truth of this horrific wench.

"Carlos?" She says softly.

"Yes?" He says. Listeners, that is most definitely not the sound of me crying behind the microphone. No, sirree. That is not the sound of my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces of chocolate, spoiled, once loved, now unwanted and melting away. That is not the audible whisper of lungs filled with sadness you hear, and I am most definitely, definitely, definitely, fine.

"You're not my Carlos." She says. Not her Carlos? As in, there are others that share the same glorious name?

"Nope, you're not." She says again. "It was another Carlos that made me fear, well, made Natasha Celestine fear. AND I SWEAR, I SHALL MAKE THAT CARLOS PAY FOR WHAT HE HAS DONE TO NATASHA." She mutters under her breath as a cloud of darkness passes over the town of Night Vale.

Another person has exited the Dog Park! I repeat, another person has exited from the Dog Park! Hey, this guy looks familiar! It's that kid who took a swim at the Night Vale beach! How in the blazes did he get there!?

"ORCA." The kid says. "It's time to go."

"One last thing." She says. She places her –UGH, get your filthy hands off of his wondrous perfect head! Haven't you done enough harm!? Why aren't the Police arresting this girl? Are they frozen in place by some mystical, magical voodoo?

"What," she says in her horrible voice. "do you think of Cecil?" What is she doing? Is she manipulating my poor Carlos's soul? If it comes to that, I don't care what Station Management does to me, this is the last…

Oh. Oh my goodness.

Carlos, listeners, has responded to Obnoxious ORCA's question. Oh, my goodness, I'm turning red. I'm turning red. I'm actually turning red, scarlet red, strawberry red, blueberry red, ridiculously redededd—

…I'm going to have to cut to the weather so I can regain myself.

* * *

WEATHER SEGMENT:

La. La. Lalala. La. Kera si to ufikalere sa. So sho sos oso ososi. Pepepepepe pi. Pi. Pi. Pi. Piiiii. Pie.

Heheh. Hahahaa. Haaaaaaaaaahhahailaraki naaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Pepeshipsu ilrutigaga. Lady Gaga. Laga. Ga.

* * *

Hello, listeners. The Livestream is over, but the convenient thing is that I am able to rewind the Livestream to the point where we left off. Where were we? Oh, yes, ORCA put her hands onto Carlos's perfect hair and asked him what he thought of me.

Carlos says in his perfectly deep, suave voice, "I like Cecil. I like Cecil a lot. He is a very kind and nice person." He smiles. "Though, sometimes, he can be a bit embarrassing and tell all of our interactions in full-length detail, I don't hate him for it. Actually, I find it a bit endearing. Don't tell Cecil. He might explode in a fit of happiness."

ORCA, the sweet ORCA (no one ever thought otherwise), smiles. "I won't." she says. "You'll have to tell him that yourself."

She releases her hold onto Carlos's hair, leaving Carlos with a cute befuddled expression on his face.

"Well, NIEN." She addresses the white-haired boy. (I'm assuming that his name is in all caps too.) "Shall we leave?" she says before re-entering the nonexistent Dog Park. NIEN does not reply, but he follows her. They disappear in a flash of blue smoke, confetti, and dead fish.

All of the people physically witnessing this event unfreeze from their positions.

Well, that about wraps it up. I'm running low on air time, so I'm going to cut off this segment soon.

Just remember, listeners, that like always, things are not always what they seem.

Unless they never were in the first place. Then, you should regret, then forget about them, unless you wish to be haunted by its nonexistence for the rest of your life.

I hope you learned something from today's interesting turns of events. Up next, we have robots singing a variety of catchy and possibly annoying songs.

This is where I leave you, listeners. Goodnight.

* * *

AN:

So due to the events currently happening at my college, I decided to calm myself down by writing fanfiction. This was a blitzkrieg fanfiction, that is, I wrote it all during about an hour when I was supposed to be studying.

If you're wondering why the hell I wrote this, I shall tell you why. There is an individual at my college named Carlos, and he is bothering me very much. I was also bothered by the fact that he shared the same name as a fictional character, and to resolve this particular conflict in my soul, I wrote this fanfiction.

I apologize for any discontinuity. Though I have started to listen to one podcast a day before I slept, I am far from finishing the series. But this fanfiction, despite originating from paranoia, was very fun for me to write. I hope you enjoyed it!

Edit: I don't know how I'll deal with college-Carlos. Maybe we'll see.

Night Vale and its characters © Commonplace books  
ORCA, NIEN, Eri, and Natasha Celestine © ~faerimagic  
Livestream © Livestream  
Target © Target  
SONY © SONY  
etc. etc. etc.


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